Another Fate
by Hanako A
Summary: Hermione thought that she was strong enough to ignore the magic of her blood. But it won't be denied, and it will lead her down a path that she would have never chosen.
1. Reboot

**Chapter One: Reboot**

**Disclaimer:** Only the plot is mine. The characters, setting, and everything else belong to JKR.

**Author's note: **This is the alternate plot path I've had in my head for my _Fated_ fic. Writing both storylines at the same time is probably not a wise decision (and might be downright silly), but I found it impossible to ignore. The background in both stories are the same, but aside from this first chapter, they're completely different and can stand on their own. If you've read the other fic, then you can skip this chapter as there's not much new.

****

"Wow," whispered Hermione in awe. "That has got to be the tallest tree I've ever seen."

It was summer time, and young Hermione was stuck at her grandmother's house. She had sought refuge in the library for the first few weeks, away from her cousins who didn't like her. However a couple days ago, her mother had kicked her out, all but ordering her to play outdoors.

And so she took to exploring the surrounding woods, using all caution to avoid her troublesome cousins. So far she had discovered several odd stones, one which she thought looked like a dragon and that she tried to take home, but couldn't. She had spied countless small animals, mainly rabbits and squirrels, but most of them had run away at the mere sight of her. She had even encountered a snake once, a small garden snake that could do her no harm. But nothing she had found so far had been half as magnificent as the tree in the clearing before her.

Hermione tilted her head back, trying to see the top of the tree but found that she could not. For a moment she thought how it was strange that she could have missed seeing this tree from her window in the bedroom she shared with her parents. Casting that thought aside, she ran towards the tree and hugged the trunk, its rough wood feeling warm against her bare arms. They barely covered a fraction of the trunk. She grinned widely, mentally congratulating herself for being right. She _had _never been in the presence of a larger tree.

"I wonder how long it took you to grow this big," she told it cheerfully. "You're truly the mightiest oak I've ever seen."

A peal of laughter sounded from beside her, startling Hermione, who thought she was alone. Jumping, she turned to her side and saw a young woman, decked out in flowing robes of white and green, smiling merrily at her. "My tree is no oak, child, but an ash," the woman told Hermione gently.

Hermione looked up at the tree again. "I thought oak trees were the largest," she told the woman primly. While she had never read up on the subject, she felt that she could rely upon the experience of all her four years and that told her that oaks were larger than all other trees.

"Perhaps a common oak is larger than a common ash. My tree can hardly be considered common, however. I have been told that Yggdrasil herself was an ash much like this one," the lady calmly replied.

Hermione had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she filed her words in the back of her mind, planning to look up what they were later. Something was off about this strange lady. "Who are you?" asked the young girl suspiciously.

"No one who means any harm to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course the strange lady would say something like that. It did feel like the truth, however. Somehow she got the sense that the woman felt benevolent towards her and wasn't going to harm her in any way, even though she had nothing concrete to base that judgment on.

"No, no, it is very much the truth. Why would I want to harm my own granddaughter?"

Hermione froze. "My grandmother is back at her house," she said stiffly. She surreptitiously glanced around, getting ready to run.

"Your grandmother?" repeated the woman, cocking her head to one side as though confused. "I'm sorry, child. I thought you were Elizabeth's daughter, Helen."

"Helen is my mother," said Hermione. She too was now confused. Perhaps the lady did know her family, seeing how she knew the names of both Hermione's mother and grandmother. "Elizabeth is my grandmother, and she's not doing well," she added.

"That long has it been?" the lady murmured to herself. "No wonder that I've been all but forgotten." She sighed. "I would have never expected that it would take this long. But perhaps I should have expected this, considering my mate was a Muggle. The magic of my line has been hidden for so long, and I am lucky its first witch is also its first blossom."

Hermione ignored the strange lady's words. Clearly the lady was not all there, and that was why she was talking to herself using such nonsensical words. She turned her attention back to the tree, marveling it once more. Hermione placed her hand on its trunk and she sensed that it was overjoyed to see her.

"No, not _it _but _she_ rather," the lady said, standing directly behind her. She laid her hand on the trunk right next to Hermione's. "Her heart and mine are one and the same, and we share the same duty. I would not have lingered so long after my love had passed away if it weren't for her. I could not leave her behind any more than I could have turned my back on him and done as my family asked." She smiled as she bent down so she was level with Hermione. With a flourish, she cupped her hands together and then opened them once more. Hermione gasped. In the middle of the woman's hands was a pendant that hadn't been there before.

"Take it," said the woman. "It's yours."

Hermione shook her head no. "I'm not supposed to take anything from strangers," she said. Her hands itched to reach for the pendant, but she fought that feeling. Her parents would be livid if they knew she had accepted such a gift from a total stranger, even if that stranger did seem to be acquainted with her mother's family.

The woman smiled. "But I'm not giving anything to you. This is yours. It always has been and always will be." She offered it again, and this time Hermione could not resist the tug she felt towards the trinket. She slowly examined the pendant. It was very simple in design, a thin silver chain with a smooth stone as its pendant. Without thinking, she unfastened the clasp. She was able to put it on and redo the clasp easily. It was almost as though the pendant wanted for her to wear it.

"That's good." The woman was still smiling but now it seemed sad. "You are a lady of the forest, my child, its guardian. This is your connection to it, and you must keep this safe." The woman gently tugged upon the pendant, but it held fast. "Good. It shan't be taken off, not until it's time."

"And then what?"

The lady glanced at her tree. "I'm sorry, my child. It's not something that can be understood without actually experiencing it. But don't worry. When the time comes, you'll know what I can't tell you now. Run along back home, dear one. Your mother is probably very worried for you. Helen always was a fretful child. You had best get back to her for it has become very late."

It was on the tip of Hermione's tongue to refute that but to her surprise when she looked at the sky, the sun was almost setting. "Oh no!" she cried. She ran back to her grandparents' house, without sparing a single glance for the woman she had met in the clearing. Her mother was waiting outside the front door, pacing back and forth as she wrung her hands. She flew across the room to hug her daughter once she saw her. It wasn't until much later that Hermione was roundly scolded for staying out so late. However nothing was said of her new pendant.

The rest of the summer flew by after that. Her mother insisted on Hermione staying by her side, saying that she couldn't trust the young girl to play outside by herself any more. Hermione was happy to stay inside with her mother and returned to reading as many books she could from the library. Three weeks later, they returned home, her parents unable to stay away from their practice any longer. Hermione soon relegated her memory of the strange lady to the back of her mind, choosing to focus on learning as much as she could about everything instead.

However, once in a while, when she was alone at home in the back garden, she would finger the pendant that still laid around her neck. She could almost believe that she could hear the trees whispering amongst themselves, promising one another that they would watch over her while she was still young. It was magic; she knew it and she reveled in it. Nothing her parents said ever convinced her otherwise. While the accidents that happened around her could be explained away, this was too real for her to ever ignore.

She was proven right in the summer of her twelfth year, when her family was visited by Minerva McGonagall. The kind old lady informed them all that Hermione was a witch. Though her parents were surprised, Hermione took it all in stride. She had known, all along, that she was different, and she thought that this explained it all.

Learning that she was a witch didn't explain the pendant that still hung in place around her neck. However, she remained ignorant of this fact for a couple more years. Eventually she learned just what the strange lady had been. Eventually she thought to ask her mother about her grandmother's grandmother, and she came to understand that she was no mere witch. No, she could never be called that, and she was busier than ever after learning the secret of her lineage. She did her best to master ordinary magic as well as the power that had skipped so many generations to flower once more in her.

****

Hermione absently brushed her hands against the trunks of the trees she passed. _Oak, pine, yew, sycamore, and then pine again_, she thought. She recognized them not by sight, as it was the night was pitch black, but by touch. They were mostly pines, but they all did as she bid and cleared a path for her through the Forbidden Forest.

She hadn't been able to communicate as well with her friends when she had been here last year. She and Harry had come so close to being attacked by the centaurs themselves. That should have never happened. They should have been perfectly safe in the middle of a forest. Over the summer, she had devoted herself to improving her skills. She no longer needed to hold her pendant in her hands to gauge the forest's emotions. She could find that out simply by standing still and listening. She had asked them directly where the herd currently was, and the trees acting as one were leading her towards them.

_And this time, they will keep me safe_. Her connection with the forest was stronger this year and would ensure that. It hadn't been easy learning that she wasn't just human, but a witch. Likewise she was having trouble coming to grips that she wasn't just a witch, but a dryadmeant to act as a voice for the forest. That much, at least, was clear though. It was hard to find anything in the library about the subject. Sometimes she felt as though she was just stumbling about in the dark when it came to controlling her powers. _I wish I had more time back then. I should have asked more questions, demanded that she give me better answers. _

She sighed. Unfortunately, she could no longer go back and ask all of her questions. Hermione had asked her mum about her grandparents' old place, but evidently it had been sold after her grandmother had passed away. Her mum had gone on to say that a rogue lightning strike had started a fire through the woods out back, and the house had ultimately burnt down as well. It wasn't the response Hermione had been hoping for.

_How much further?_ she asked silently. The answer came from every direction that it wasn't far. Hermione reached for her wand to reassure herself that it was still in place. She didn't want to take any chances. She knew that the forest would protect her, but she wanted to be able to defend herself with her own magic if the need arose. She wasn't going to be much of a guardian if she couldn't at least do that. She took a deep breath and then continued to follow along the path the forest was making.

Suddenly the branch of a pine to the right of her bent down sharply, deflecting an arrow shot straight at Hermione. Whirling around, she peered through the darkness, trying to make out just where the arrow had come from. She had no success. "Show yourselves," she commanded with confidence.

"Ha! The human child thinks that we centaurs listen to the likes of her," a mocking voice called out.

She raised herself to her full height, silently cursing the fact that she wasn't very tall at all. "Have it your way then. You'll find no cover here," she told the speaker haughtily. She mentally commanded the forest to move away from the centaurs so that they could no longer hide in the brush. In a moment's time, she was able to see the group of five centaurs who had fired upon her.

"A spell!" hissed a dark centaur who Hermione remembered from last year's confrontation with Umbridge. He pulled another arrow from his quiver and aimed at her. "How dare you use your magic to affect the forest so!"

She merely cocked an eyebrow, wholly unconcerned. "I used no magic," she said. "I simply asked them to move and they did." She smiled and laid a hand upon the tree closest to her. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Used no magic?" the centaur echoed. "Then how—"

Just then one of his companions uttered a cry as realization dawned across his face. "No mere witch is she," he said. "Can you not feel how the forest reacts to her? She's a dryad." He lowered his bow, and the rest slowly followed his example.

The dark centaur sniffed haughtily. "You may be right," he said, "but she's young and not matured, no match for the last lady who reigned here."

"True," the other centaur agreed. "And as such, she cannot give lasting orders. But the forest will protect her, nonetheless, until she's grown and has found her mate. Trying to harm her is folly." He looked towards Hermione. "But any more than that is not forthcoming. We would have to honor the wishes of a mature dryad, ere we lose our home, but a youngling like yourself cannot expect the same."

The centaurs melted into the forest before Hermione could say a word or ask the trees around them to block their way. She wanted to chase after them, asking what they knew about dryads. Clearly they knew more than her—they mentioned how she was not fully developed and had yet to find a mate. But it was getting light, and she had to get back to Hogwarts before she was discovered missing. She sighed, then asked the trees of the forest to guide her back home.

But though they had been cryptic, she was still able to focus her research a bit more the next morning. In the past, Hermione had generally read up on what her powers were and how to control them. She had ignored the sections in her books referring to how dryads matured. The next evening she went back to peruse those sections, blushing mightily through some of the more graphic descriptions offered therein. But once she was finished, she knew a bit more about what it meant to be a dryad and what the centaurs had meant.

Every dryad, it seemed, had her own mate. While she would not die if she failed to find him, she still needed him to complete her. She wouldn't mature in her powers, nor would she be able to ever have any children, unless she bonded with him. This was a rather unexpected setback for Hermione. She hadn't thought to look in these sections, given their rather graphic nature, but it was obvious that she would never have the sort of control she needed to ward the Forbidden Forest from Death Eaters until she not only found her mate, but bonded with him as well.

She blushed at that thought. She was still too young for something like that, she believed. From the various descriptions, it was clear that the bonding ritual also had a good deal of magic in it—the sort of magic that dealt with fertility. Her cheeks burned even more as she recalled the details she had learned. No, she definitely did not think she was ready for something that permanent.

Of course, it wasn't as though it really mattered. She didn't even know who her mate was, after all. The books had all went on about how a dryad was naturally attracted to her mate and how he caught her attention like no other man. She couldn't think of anyone like that. At first she had thought maybe Ron, but she had soon ruled him out. She could ignore him whenever she felt like that, particularly when he was being obnoxious. Evidently, a dryad couldn't ignore her mate, no matter how hard she tried.

Hermione sighed and gathered up her books, deciding she might as well go to the Great Hall to get some breakfast. Her powers wouldn't be as much use to Harry as she had hoped. She paused for a minute, thinking of her friend, and then sighed. No, she didn't think Harry was it, either. Which was good, in its own way, because she knew that Ginny had been in love with him for a long time. She would have hated to be in competition with the other witch for Harry. Especially as Hermione knew that she would lose. While she wasn't a troll, she simply wasn't as striking as Ginny.

Hermione walked downstairs, feeling resigned. There was no hope for it. She probably hadn't even met her mate yet. The books had made it clear that once a dryad laid eyes upon her mate, she was drawn to him and was always seeking his attention. She could feel his pain and his strong emotions even before they were bonded. There simply was no wizard in the entire school like that for Hermione. That too was just as well, she thought. She didn't think she was ready.

A shock of white hair caught her eye as she entered the Great Hall. She peered over at the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy had decided to make an appearance today. He was sitting off to one end by himself and looking paler than usual. Hermione shook her head as she walked to her own House's table. Both Harry and Ron thought that Malfoy was up to no good these days, and she certainly understood why. He had been acting suspiciously lately. Still something told her that the boy wasn't as evil the way her friends believed he was; that was more the influence of his environment than anything else. There was no way she would ever be able to convince her boys of that fact though.

Boys were just stubborn like that.

She pushed thoughts of Malfoy out of her head and instead focused on looking over her Transfiguration essay one last time before she turned it in. Over the next several weeks, she lost herself in her schoolwork, deciding to concentrate on that since she would be unable to use her other powers effectively for some time to come. For all intents and purposes, she almost forgot about what she had learned about dryads and their mates.

That changed late one spring evening.

Having just returned from studying downstairs, she was in the midst of getting ready for bed. Suddenly she gasped and fell to her knees, clutching at her chest. It burned painfully, and it felt as though someone had tried to slash it open. She took a shuddering breath, then looked down at her chest. There was no blood. That surprised her. Both her heart and her chest ached so much that she ought to be bleeding profusely.

"Hermione?" Lavender asked from behind her. "Are you all right?"

Hermione tried to answer, but found that she couldn't. It was all she could do to breathe. She blinked away the tears that had sprung in her eyes and tried once more to speak. "Yes," she gasped out. "Just a bit dizzy, that's all."

Her two roommates exchanged doubting glances. "You don't look that well," said Parvati. "I think we should take you to see Madam Pomfrey."

"No!" Hermione would have said more but it had become even harder to breathe. Merlin, were those black spots appearing before her eyes? "I'm fine," she repeated herself. "I just need to rest." Deep down, she knew that Hogwarts' medi-witch couldn't do anything to help her.

Neither Lavender nor Parvati looked inclined to believe her. "All right then," Parvati said finally. "We'll help you into bed." The two of them stepped forward on either side of Hermione and helped her to her feet. With their aide, she was able to transverse the short space that separated her from her bed.

"If you're not feeling well by morning though we'll take you to the hospital wing," Lavender added.

"I'm positive I'll be better by then." Hermione closed her eyes. Maybe she would get better if she couldn't notice how her vision was being affected. It seemed to work. She could breathe more steadily now, and she silently vowed to recover before Lavender could make good on her threat.

She didn't want any help from the witch who all but stole Ron away from her.

No matter that Hermione had decided that she really wasn't all that into her gangly best friend. She still didn't like losing at anything, even if she didn't care all that much for the prize.

That night seemed to last several lifetimes to Hermione. She would have random episodes of pain so intense that it was all she could do to maintain consciousness. Slowly, however, the pain receded and those spasms became less and less frequent. By the time the sun finally rose, she was feeling more like her old self again. Though rather grouchy and sleep-deprived from whatever had happened last night, she was able to form coherent thoughts again, and that was what really mattered.

Unfortunately for her, that didn't last for too long. A little bit after she met up with her friends, Harry admitted that he had at least a dozen detentions for what he had done to Malfoy last night. She gasped as Harry described what had happened. It was unfathomable. It just couldn't be.

But if her friend was to be believed, evidently he had cursed Malfoy around the same time Hermione was afflicted by that strange attack.

Hermione could hear herself speaking but she didn't know what she was saying. Her body was operating on auto-pilot as her mind rushed to examine the consequences. She came to the same conclusion again and again, no matter how many times she tried to find an alternate that fit all the facts.

Draco Malfoy was her mate.

It made perfect sense. That would explain why she was in so much pain the evening before; she had been suffering from the aftereffects of Harry's attack on him. And Malfoy had always drawn her eye ever since she met him on the Hogwarts Express while searching for Neville's toad. She had told herself it was because he was her enemy that it was best for her to keep her eye on that, but if she was being honest with herself, it was more than that. She had never believed that he was all that bad unlike her best friends. And he had always been able to affect her. She still remembered how she missed one class back in third year because she was so consumed with thinking about him. It made so much sense that she couldn't believe that she hadn't figured it out before this.

She cried herself to sleep that night. Fate was cruel, and it had doomed her to a lifetime of loneliness. Her mate had turned out to be the last wizard on earth who would accept her. Hermione knew that Malfoy despised her for being a Muggle-born. There was no way he would agree to bond with her. He probably wouldn't even want her to touch him, not wanting for her to contaminate him with her filthy self.

She turned over and hugged her pillow. Fate _was_ cruel, but Hermione would survive. She would be lonely forever and would never have full control of her powers but she would still live. That was something. And it would have to be enough. For she would have her pride, even if she couldn't have her man.


	2. Prime Directive

**Chapter Two: Prime Directive**

**Disclaimer:** Only the plot is mine. The characters, setting, and everything else belong to JKR.

****

She took a deep breath and then sighed. It wouldn't be much longer now. Unbidden her hand rose to stroke the trunk of the tree behind her. The feel of the rough bark grounded her somehow, and she knew it was going to be all right. Everything was going to work out just the way she planned.

She would not suffer a monster to live.

Even at night, the forest was always full of sound, but all of a sudden it became deathly quiet. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek. She opened her eyes and cast her gaze at the sky. The full moon was shrouded in clouds, but the wind would soon change that. Undoubtedly her opponent thought that would give him the advantage. She stood up straight, knowing it would not be much longer until he finally made his appearance.

Slowly but surely, she began to make out the figure of a wizard amidst the fog in the distance. Although the moon was clouded over, the wizard still looked to be half beast with his wild, mangled hair and his nails so long that they were practically claws. Hermione clenched her fists at her side and waited. This would all be over soon. She simply had to be patient and hold her ground until he stepped into the grove she had chosen.

Her target stopped abruptly when he was about ten feet away from her. His lips twisted up into a cruel parody of a smile. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he asked. He made a show of sniffing the air. "It seems like someone forgot to tell the Mudblood not to go out alone at night. Particularly not when the moon is full." His tongue rolled out of his mouth as the werewolf's ghastly laughter rang out.

She said nothing. Her resolve only strengthened in the face of his taunting. She simply had to rid the world of him. He was the reason that all the dark stereotypes of werewolves persisted. So long as he drew breath, good men such as Professor Lupin would always be lumped into the same category as the psychopath before her. She simply couldn't fail to complete her plans tonight for she didn't know when she might get another chance. And for that to happen, she needed to lure him closer. Hermione straightened her back and glared at her adversary, all but daring him to press forward. The moon might be full, but she knew that no harm would come to her. Her allies—no, her friends—simply would not allow it.

The werewolf's lips curled back in a snarl. "What's wrong, pet? Too scared to speak?" He snorted. "I see that myths of Gryffindors' bravery are just that."

That verbal insult stung, but not enough to make her reply in kind. However her opponent still remained outside the copse, and so she spoke, hoping to verbally prod him forward. "I see nothing of which to be afraid," she said with a toss of her head. "You're pathetic, really."

That provoked the response she had been looking for. Fenrir growled and began stalking forward once more. "You're going to regret that, girl. When I get through with you—"

"Oh please," she said in a bored voice. "You can't even touch a hair on my head. I almost pity you. You rely on the brute strength lycanthropy grants you, but that strength is useless against my magic and my blood. You're so stupid that you don't even know you're outmatched."

"Outmatched?" he barked. His voice was low and deep, and she knew the monster had finally taken the bait. "I'll show you outmatched!" A sudden gust of wind revealed the moon. A heartbeat later the wolf leapt towards her, his slavering maw open, intent on ripping her to shreds.

A great cracking sound filled the grove, louder and closer than thunder, as roots ripped out of the ground and reached in the air, ensnaring the wolf mid-jump. Frantically he twisted and turned, swiping his claws and brandishing his teeth, to free himself of their grasp. But each and every time he broke free of one root, two more rose to take its place. The fight continued. Soon enough blood, fur, and broken bits of wood littered the ground.

Finally after half an hour, it was over. The trees had won. The wolf lay still, utterly spent, held in place by their roots and branches. Streams of blood rushed down his side. Hermione slowly paced towards him. The werewolf feebly glared at her, not bothering to snap at her. She stopped then, sensing that he wasn't quite as exhausted as he seemed to be.

"A werewolf's healing ability isn't something to be underestimated," she said in a cold, detached voice that she barely recognized as her own. "Take off his head," she commanded the trees.

They did just that. Fenrir Greyback's life ended in a whimper, not a roar.

****

A small frown crossed Severus Snape's face as his long fingers finished with the last button. He didn't need a mirror to tell him that his robes hung poorly upon his frame. He could feel that they were far too loose on him. That was the result of the weeks on the run he had spent after Dumbledore's death.

That had been a miserable time. He had been hiding from everyone—from the Aurors who wanted to drag both him and his charge to Azkaban to his purported allies, who he couldn't trust with his charge. Severus knew all too well that if he had returned to the Death Eaters with Draco that the Dark Lord would have punished the Malfoy scion for failing in his task. That had made returning to them not an option because of that damnable oath that he had taken the summer before.

However the one good thing about the fall of the Ministry meant that he and Draco had been able to return to Malfoy Manor for Voldemort's attention was once again focused elsewhere. There was always the possibility that Draco would be punished by their leader—certainly Narcissa Malfoy worried about that incessantly—but Severus didn't think that was likely. Now that things were going his way, the Dark Lord was too cunning to do anything permanent to the boy and risk losing the parents' loyalty. Of course he could be proven wrong. The Death Eaters were an opportunistic bunch, and several of them sought to advance in the ranks at the expense of the Malfoys.

And then there was Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf had taken to roaming the halls at night as though hunting for prey. His predilection for going after children was well-known. He had made many a remark on how it had been weeks since he had last hunted human flesh and that the opportunity to personally punish Draco for his failures would be savored. Needless to say, Narcissa had placed the most powerful of wards upon the boy's bedroom. Severus couldn't say that he blamed her. While Severus didn't think it would happen, there was always the possibility that Voldemort would throw Draco to the wolves, so to speak.

A knock sounded on his door. "Come in," said Severus. He prepared his mental shields, making certain that they were up to full strength, as he turned to face his visitor.

"Good morning, Severus," said Narcissa Malfoy with an elegant nod of her head. She cast a glance at his trunk, which was packed. "Are you returning to Hogwarts already?" she asked.

"Indeed," he replied. "There's much to do now that I've been appointed Headmaster, especially as we'll be having several new staff members."

"I see." She raised one delicate eyebrow, and he knew he wasn't going to like what she was going to say next. She was simply the craftiest witch he had ever had the displeasure of dealing with. "Does that include choosing the head students?"

"Yes," he said shortly. Severus cursed mentally. He should have known that was the reason she had decided to visit him this morning. He had hardly seen Narcissa during his sojourn at Malfoy Manor, only running into her occasionally at meals as he rarely bothered dining with the rest of the Death Eaters as nothing killed an appetite like fear and misery. Still he would have thought that she might have sought him out to thank him for saving her spawn. But then again, it wasn't like Narcissa to thank someone who she thought was beneath her.

"I feel awful for even asking this after you've done so much for us already," she said. Her proud demeanor belied her words; clearly she had no problems with making yet another request of him. "But I do hope you will consider Draco for the position of Head Boy. He has the best marks of his year, you know."

"Out of the Slytherins, that is true," replied Severus. And for that, Severus was genuinely fond of the lad. He would have hated his lot in life much more if the likes of Crabbe and Goyle were the best his House had to offer. "You don't think it might benefit Draco for him to stay out of the spotlight, so to speak?" he asked, alluding to Narcissa's fears for the boy.

The sudden smile that crossed the blonde witch's face didn't bode well for him. "You mean you haven't heard?" she asked, all innocence. "Fenrir Greyback was found dead this morning."

"What?" His mouth dropped open in shock. Last night had been a full moon. It should have been impossible for all but the most powerfully magic of wizards to take down the werewolf. "Where?"

"Deep within a forest, many miles from here." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "For some reason, I don't think he appreciated all the silver I told the elves to use for dinner last night."

"Imagine that." Of course, Narcissa would do everything in her power to drive the werewolf away from the manor last night. She had her son to protect after all, and she knew how much that monster loved hunting children. That made her son a target, especially with how low the Malfoy family had fallen. Now that the werewolf was dead, she undoubtedly felt that Draco's future was much more secure.

Severus held back a sigh. Time and time again, he had counseled Dumbledore to rid the world of that werewolf for no Death Eater family would even consider switching sides so long as their children could be targeted by Fenrir. Narcissa was one such witch they might have turned to their side, with some help from her older sister, for she had never been fond of the beast. But of course Dumbledore hadn't listened. The old fool never did.

But then again, one of Dumbledore's biggest faults was that he didn't care for all of his students the way he cared for the Gryffindors. Things might have been so different if the old wizard had tried to reach out to Draco before that night on the tower. Severus pushed that thought out of his mind. Life was too short and he had too much to do to waste time, lingering over his many regrets.

He decided some more information about the killing wouldn't be amiss. "So do we know who—"

"No," Narcissa answered, not needing to hear the end of his question. "We have no idea who might have done it. He had many an enemy, you know. Still the way he died was quite chilling from what I understand."

"Oh?"

"His head was lopped off."

Severus looked askance at the blonde witch. "While that's certainly messy, I don't see what's so chilling about that. It's one way to make sure a transformed werewolf stays dead, especially if you don't have any silver handy."

"I know. But when they found the body…it was all tangled in branches, as though the forest itself decided to rid the world of that monster."

"Maybe it did." That bit of information perked his curiosity. Having created a few spells himself, Severus wondered what manner of incantation had been used and if he could possibly duplicate the act. It would certainly come in handy when dealing with unstable allies around Hogwarts. "Well at least that is one less worry for me as Headmaster of Hogwarts," he noted, half to himself.

Narcissa didn't question that statement. Instead she pounced upon it, determined to use it as an opening to bring up her previous topic. "You must have so many, seeing how this is your first year in charge of the school and all. But I promise you if you appoint Draco as Head Boy that he won't disappoint you."

Severus started to speak but then thought the better of it. There were just so many ways he could respond to that. Obviously Draco was currently a public disappointment to his family for the way he had failed to kill Dumbledore. Privately Severus believed that both the boy's parents were happy that he hadn't become a murderer. It was a sentiment that Severus shared.

But Draco had been a disappointment in other, more private ways. Chief among them was the fact that the boy had never spared a moment to question his parents' beliefs. He never stopped to ponder whether it was right choice to do as he was commanded or whether there might be another path. Perhaps it was inevitable. Of course it was blasted difficult to put aside beliefs pounded into you since you were a child. But Severus had hoped that the Malfoy heir might at least have thought about it for a second or two during the six years he spent at Hogwarts away from his parents.

If a boy as clever as Draco never bothered to consider his options, then Severus had no hope at all for the rest of the Slytherins under his care. It seemed that never-ending disappointment and frustration was to be his lot in life.

Regardless Severus knew that if he wanted to leave any time soon, he would have to give Narcissa the answer she wanted to hear. Thankfully he could easily do that without fully committing himself. "While the final decision doesn't rest entirely in my hands," he said, "I assure you I shall take your recommendation in to consideration."

"Thank you," the blonde witch said, a smug smile on her face. "Something tells me that few of the other professors will protest much when you suggest Draco for the position."

"That may very well be. Now if you will excuse me, I must get going," he stated firmly. Narcissa recognized the dismissal in his voice and gracefully made her exit, leaving him free once more to finish preparing for his return to Hogwarts.

****

The smell of eggs and toast and sausage floated up the stairs, wrapping itself around the two witches as if beckoning them to the breakfast table.

"Oh my! That smells absolutely scrumptious," declared Ginny Weasley. "Mum's outdid herself again."

"Doesn't she always?" replied Hermione artfully. The truth was, however, it took all of her self-control not to grimace. While she had never been overly fond of meat, she found it almost impossible to eat any meat now. The mere thought of that turned her stomach. The slightest scent of meat—raw or cooked—made her nauseous. Her mother had undoubtedly noticed the change in her eating habits. While she hadn't said a thing about it to Hermione, she always made certain that there was at least one vegetarian dish at the table.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for meals at the Burrow.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Ginny noted with a tone of aspersion in her voice. "You hardly ever eat these days. Mum's beginning to think that you don't like her cooking."

"Oh no! She's a wonderful cook," Hermione protested. Which was true. Molly Weasley was a gifted cook. Unfortunately her repertoire of dishes, while suited to a family of growing wizards, didn't appeal to Hermione at all.

"Is that so? Shall I take that to mean that there's another reason for you not eating much lately?" asked Ginny. She looked slyly at the other witch, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Another reason?" Hermione repeated.

"Why yes." Ginny now had a full-fledged smirk on her face. "I noticed that you didn't go to bed until very late last night," she added. "So where were you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "I don't see how that's any of your business, but if you must know, I couldn't sleep last night so I decided to take a walk outside."

"You took a walk outside? That's all?" The redhead gracefully arched up one long eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes. That's all."

"Oh Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed then. She looked from side to side and then rushed forward to take Hermione's hands. "In here," she said, pulling the older witch into an alcove along the stairs. "Hermione, Hermione," she tsked. "What are we ever going to do with you? You're an awful liar, you know."

"Am not," Hermione protested.

"Are too. But enough of that. That's not the point. The point is that you can trust me." Ginny looked earnestly at the other witch. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul about where you spent last night." She suddenly grimaced. "Although please spare me the details. Ron is my brother, you know."

"What?" screeched Hermione. "You think that I—"

Ginny shook her head knowingly. "It's very convenient, isn't it, how he's not sharing a room with Harry any more. Of course, the two of you are going to take advantage of that. I would with Harry if.…" She trailed off, frustration written all over her face.

"Look," said Hermione, "I'm sorry about Harry. He can be terribly stubborn sometimes."

"More like all the time," Ginny mumbled.

"But trust me, Gin, I've not been doing anything with Ron." She shuddered. "Just the thought…ugh! He's like a brother to me!"

"Hmm…if I didn't know better, I'd say you were telling the truth."

Hermione stamped her foot. "I am telling the truth."

"Yes, well, you're certainly not lying." Ginny tilted her head to the side as she stared at the older witch. "So if not Ron, then which of my brothers is it? Fred and George are a definite no, Bill's getting married...which leaves Charlie?"

"Dear Morganna," Hermione swore. "I'm not involved with any of your brothers. For that matter, I'm not involved with anyone." There was always Malfoy, of course, but she thought he didn't count. After all it wasn't as though her mate would ever want her.

"You're not? But I thought you were—"

"You thought what?" Ginny gulped nervously, and Hermione suddenly knew what the other witch had thought. "You though I was pregnant?" she asked in shock. She couldn't believe it. "Don't you know me better than that?"

"I do, I do! You being who you are, you must know at least a dozen contraception spells. But the way you keep acting at breakfast…as though the mere sight of food makes you nauseous." She shrugged her shoulders. "I kept telling myself it had to be something else, but when Ron remarked on it too last night, I thought that it must be morning sickness and you must be pregnant."

"And it must be Ron's?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. She hated how people assumed that she was still mooning after her redheaded best friend.

"Yes, because why else would he notice? I love my brother but he can be annoyingly oblivious to how other people are feeling. And he looked dreadfully worried, let me tell you, and so I put two and two together and—"

"Came up with the wrong answer," Hermione concluded.

"Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." Hermione could see why Ginny had leapt to the conclusion that she did. For her not to be eating at meals and for Ron to openly worry about it....that made her wonder who else amongst the Weasleys thought that there was something go on between the two of them. Hopefully not Mrs Weasley. The thought of that made her grimace.

"So if you weren't visiting anyone last night, then where did you go?" Ginny asked her.

Hermione sighed. She would have to tell Ginny a bit of the truth. "I did go for a walk outside. A long walk. Because I wanted to think."

"But you were gone for hours!" Ginny fell silent as the gears began to turn in her head. "I see," she said quietly. "You went for a longer walk than anyone would like if they knew."

"Yes." She sighed. "You see…it's just that—"

Ginny held up a hand to quiet her. "I know, Hermione. I know. Trust me, it's probably worse for me than it is for you. It's awful, isn't it? The way everyone's always hovering over us, treating us as though we can't take care of ourselves, as if we're porcelain dolls. Ugh! It makes me sick." She tossed her hands in the air out of frustration.

The younger witch went on. "And I hate how they think they're so clever about keeping secrets from us. I know that Harry and Ron aren't planning on going back. And they don't want to take me." She cast her eyes down at the ground and bit her lower lip sullenly. "Not that there's any way Mum or Dad would let me go. Dad's all but threatened to escort me back to Hogwarts himself." She suddenly looked up at Hermione. "But you're going, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione with a confidence she didn't feel "I'm not going to let them leave me behind."

"Good," declared Ginny. "One of us needs to be there to watch over the two of them." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know where they got the idea that they could take care of themselves."

"Indeed." Hermione turned and exited the alcove, with Ginny following shortly after.

"Hermione," Ginny called softly after her.

"Yes?" She paused and waited for the other witch to catch up.

"So if you're not…you're not…well you know…." Ginny waved her hands in the air vaguely. "If it's not that, then why haven't you been eating?"

Once again, Hermione determined that telling some of the truth would serve her well. She let out a deep sigh and then said, "It's because I'm a vegetarian now."

"Oh!" Ginny covered her mouth with her hands. "You are? Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to impose."

"Impose? Oh no. It's no imposition," Ginny stated baldly. "Mum loves learning new recipes. She's going to be so relieved. Honestly you should've heard her! She was ever so worried that you hated her cooking! She's going to feel much better to know the real reason why you've not been eating. Oh I have to tell her right away!" With that, she pushed past Hermione and rushed down the stairs.

****

**Author's note:** Please review. I'd love to know what you think of this fic. :D


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